Hover in the background, outside
the bubble they exist within. It’s not
just you, there are several people
lingering nearby. Watching. Learning,
enjoying, imagining themselves in the scene.
She’s leaning over a spanking bench,
her knees cushioned by soft leather,
her hands gripping the inclined back
in a white-knuckle grip. There are no ropes
Holding her there. No straps or chains.
She’s staring straight ahead but all
of her attention is focused on the
sadist prowling around her. You’re aware
of him, but you’re watching her. She’s
panting, back arched, anticipation
keeping her body strung tight. He looses
the whip and you hear the crack, see her
lips part on gasp. Her body jerk, a whimper
escape her. She dips her head and then
offers herself again. He smiles, rewards her
with several lashes, one after the other.
Her screams get louder, she tries to draw
away but he drags her back. His grip
in her hair tilts her head back and they
exchange a look. A secret passes between them,
one you desperately wished you knew.
She smiles, whispers something and he laughs.
Kisses her gently and then swaps the whip
for a paddle large enough to make your
stomach clench and her eyes widen.
Anticipation mixed with apprehension mixed
with that wild joy of pushing the envelope,
going into the dark places and seeing what truth
hides in the shadows. She turns her head and
looks right at you. A moment of awareness.
A moment of connection. She knows you know
why she’s there, what she’s feeling. She knows
that you’d swap with her in a heartbeat
even though you’re not sure you could handle
what he’s dishing out. Before you can decide,
she turns back to the wall, turns her attention
back to him, and the show goes on.